Beneath the Surface
by Alydia Rackham
Summary: John Sheppard and Teyla are separated from the rest of the team, trapped on a freezing planet.


STARGATE

ATLANTIS

_Beneath the Surface_

By: Alyson Holman

"This is ridiculous."

"Just relax."

"I do not see how that would help."

"That's what you always tell _me _when you're trying to teach me meditation."

Teyla lifted her eyes from the computer screen and cocked an eyebrow at John Sheppard, who stood just behind her to her right.

"That is meditation. _This _is directing a little, digital creature through a tunnel and making it eat other little creatures."

"Hey!" Sheppard objected. "It's the closest thing to Pacman we've got around here."

"Pacman?" Teyla repeated, nonplussed.

"Yeah, it's another kind of...video game? Back on earth. Really popular when I was a

kid," he answered matter-of-factly.

"And...did this simulation help hone your reflexes or sharpen your strategy skills or otherwise benefit your mind?" Teyla pressed.

"Well, not...Not _everything _has to do _those _kind of things." Sheppard, slightly exasperated, reached around her and shut off the screen. "Sometimes you...do stuff because it's _fun_."

Teyla rose to her feet, unable to keep from smiling. They had been experiencing a lengthy lack of excitement in Atlantis lately, and Sheppard had tried to amuse her and himself by teaching her a computer game he had recently discovered. She _did_ understand how he in particular would find the game entertaining, but she enjoyed giving him difficulty about all earthly amusements, because he became so endearingly inarticulate when trying to defend them.

"I shall try to keep your words in mind," Teyla promised.

"Good," Sheppard nodded once, then turned his head slightly. "Because life can get pretty boring if you don't---" He stopped and cocked his head, his eyes unfocusing. Teyla blinked. Someone was speaking into his earpiece. Deftly, he reached up and tapped it.

"I'm here. What's up?" he questioned. He listened intently for a moment."Got it," he answered shortly. "Teyla and I'll be right there." He focused on Teyla again. "Come on. Elizabeth has something she wants us to see."

"We've lost contact with the Vashtians," Dr. Weir faced them in her usual direct manner as Sheppard and Teyla trotted up the stairs to the control deck.

"The Vashtians?" Sheppard's brow furrowed. "Those...forest people who live in houses that look like toothpaste tubes?"

"Those are the ones," Elizabeth confirmed, clasping her hands behind her back and turning back to Dr. Mckay who sat at a console.

"Yes, so, as always, we sent a MALP through..." Rodney began, hitting two buttons. "And _this _lovely picture is all we saw." Clearly irritated, he leaned back as Sheppard and Teyla curiously bent to see the smaller screen. It flickered slightly, and then a clear picture of pine trees appeared. The MALP continued cautiously forward for a few more bumpy seconds, and then the screen buzzed and went black. Sheppard's gaze sharpened.

"What happened?"

"That's why I called you," Elizabeth informed him. "I want you to get your team ready and go see what's interfering with the MALP---and, if possible, see why we haven't heard from the Vashtians in so long."

"Oh, yes, it's always _us _that have to go chasing after the truant civilizations and solving the galaxies weirdest conundrums," McKay griped, rolling his eyes. "For _once_, can't I be allowed to _enjoy _the peace and quiet around here without being forced to go looking for trouble?"

"This isn't about you, Rodney," Sheppard frowned. "Go suit up."

Teyla ignored Rodney's further whining as she followed Sheppard down the stairs to the armory. Personally, she grew restless when lulls like this stretched for too long. She fought against the impulse, for she knew wishing for adventure was the pastime of fools, but anymore, she craved a bit of action, and hoped that this mission would prove to be at least somewhat more exciting than routine.

"Are we all set?" Sheppard glanced back to survey his team. Teyla stood, ready and waiting, knowing she need do no more than nod at him. Ronon, never wearing the usual uniform of the military in this city, but instead a long, leather trench-coat, spread his stance and flicked a switch on his large handgun that set it from "kill" to "stun." Rodney was fiddling with a strap on his own weapon. Sheppard raised his eyebrows.

"Ready, Rodney?"

"For crying out loud, what are you in such a hurry for?" Rodney gave him a strained look.

"I'd rather be back in bed."

"Come on, McKay. It'll be fun," Ronon spoke deeply, grinning in his usual unsettling manner. "I've been ready to stretch my legs for a week."

"So go to the gym," Rodney answered back. Teyla sighed.

"All right, shut up," Sheppard commanded, then lifted his gaze to the control deck."We're good to go."

"All right," Weir nodded down at them. "Dial the Gate."

The sharp, echoing series of _ping-_ing began as the brilliant blue lights encircling the gate selected their new address, as they had hundreds of times before. The next instant, the team was illuminated in a bright sapphire flash as the wormhole opened up, punching a strange, huge fist into the Gateroom before retreating, leaving behind a pulsating horizontal field that always reminded Teyla of the vibrant ocean waters around Atlantis.

Perfectly in stride, she and Sheppard started toward the Gate.

"All right, this clip is impossible!" Teyla heard Rodney declare right behind them.

"Let me see that," Ronon growled.

"Ouch!" Rodney protested. "Be careful!"

The Gate loomed directly before them, now. In just an eyeblink, Teyla was about to experience the strange, tingling sensation of passing through the field and being whisked instantly across the galaxy, almost as if by magic. It never ceased to amaze her.

Bracing herself and holding her breath, despite countless safe travels through the Gate, Teyla strode through. For just a moment, a sharp whirring spun around her head, and when she opened her eyes----

Brilliant white daylight nearly blinded her----and she and Sheppard stepped knee-deep down into an unbroken blanket of snow. Whistling, freezing wind dashed through the bare trees, instantly cutting through their clothes and blasting their hair. Shocked, Teyla glanced over at Sheppard, gripping her gun tighter. The MALP had not displayed _this_.

"Snow?" Sheppard cried in dismay over the rush of the wind. "We're not dressed warm enough for this. We'd better go back and---"

A sharp _bbbzzzzt_ issued from behind them, and then a deafening crack like a whip. Teyla and Sheppard whirled around to see sparks shoot from one of the address keys on the ring---and then the Gate snapped closed. Ronon and McKay had not made it through.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

"Well..._that's _not good," Sheppard managed. However, neither got the chance to speak again. The earth began to vibrate beneath their cold feet, a dull rumbling pulsed through the air, and suddenly, all through the forest, large holes sprang open in the ground, swallowing snow like water. Teyla, alarmed, spread her stance and prepared to run. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sheppard do the same.

Then, to their astonishment, large, rounded machines that looked remarkably like drones leaped up out of the pits, their sharp, upswept fins glinting in the sunlight, and, red lights blinking, began powering directly toward them.

"Teyla, I think we'd better---" Sheppard started. Then the ground shook violently, almost knocking Teyla down---and one of the gaping chasms opened right beneath Sheppard's feet.

"_John!_" Teyla yelped, lunging toward him. But she was not quick enough. Lurching to a stop at the very edge of the hole, she watched in terror as he plunged downward into the blackness.

The roar grew louder. She jerked her head up to see that the machines were already almost on top of her. Gritting her teeth, she coiled her legs and leaped directly down into the abyss. Silence closed over her, except the rushing wind, and darkness swallowed all she knew.

"What _happened?_" Dr. Weir roared at those sitting at the control stations.

"We don't know!" one answered. "It deactivated of it's own accord---someone on the planet must have done it."

"That's impossible---it was too quick!" Rodney countered as he darted up the stairs, Ronon following closely.

"It's a good thing you two didn't get partway through or you would have been cut in half." Dr. Weir realized.

"Yes, I am painfully aware of that, thank you," Rodney said shortly, bending over a computer.

"That would have been unpleasant," Ronon said with grim amusement. "So how long until we can get the Gate back online?"

"Patience is not a virtue of yours, is it my friend?" Rodney shot back. "Just let me look at this for, oh, maybe _three _seconds before I answer you, okay?"

"Rodney, we have no idea what Sheppard and Teyla have run into down there," Dr. Weir reminded him.

"I know, I know!"

And so the others forced themselves into being silent for just thirty seconds more, and finally Rodney rose and faced them, a helpless expression on his face.

"I have no way to activate the Gate on that planet from here. For some inexplicable reason that will take me hours to figure out," He gestured to the computer in frustration. "It is completely under the control of whoever-it-is on the planet." He sighed. "They're stuck, and we have no way of sending them help."

"So...we just have to wait until Sheppard and Teyla can activate it themselves on their side, right?" Ronon guessed.

"Yeah," Rodney answered doubtfully. "Yeah, sure."

Teyla had no idea how far she fell. She spun through the disorienting shadows in a fury of speed, absently realizing that if she landed on something hard, it could kill her.

"Teyla!"

The warning shout came from somewhere below her, and immediately gave her a bearing. _That _was down. Twisting in midair, she caught a glimpse of one of those drone-like machines directly below her, its jagged fins waiting to break her fall.

Unable to do much, she relaxed all of her muscles and prepared to make as organized of a landing as possible---not on the fins.

A split-second before she collided with the metal, she leaned down to absorb the impact of her fall into a roll. Her shoulder and side of her head slammed into the metal, and she was flipped forward like a rag doll, though she fought to keep her tight shape. Her gun was knocked out of her hand. The next moment, she was flying through the air again, and then landed on her back with crushing force.

For a long moment, she merely lay there, stunned into paralysis. She could not even draw breath. Battling back a surge of reflexive panic, she forced her chest to lift and expand her lungs. Her first breath rasped in her throat, and she coughed wrackingly.

"Teyla?" that same voice grunted, somewhere off to her left. "Are you okay?"

She could not answer. She still could barely breathe, and just kept gasping. Distantly, she heard a shuffling, dragging noise, and more strained grunting as the person who had spoken laboriously dragged himself through the dirt toward her.

After a few long moments, he was beside her. Her head was still spinning from the impact, but she could hear him breathing hard, and sensed his nearness. She forced her eyes to open and turned to see a prone figure about two feet away.

"John?" she rasped, squinting, and she reached out to touch him. Her coordination had not fully returned, and so her left hand landed clumsily somewhere on his side. Her fingers met with an unexpected sensation, and he sharply sucked in his breath. Instantly, Teyla went cold. Her hand came away covered in warm, wet stickiness.

He was bleeding.

"John," she choked again, hauling herself up onto her side and pulling herself closer toward him with her left arm. Her eyes were adjusting now, for the door up above them had not shut all the way, allowing some white light down below. She could see Sheppard, shadowed but touched by the faint shards of light. His left arm he closely hugged down to his chest, his eyes were closed, and his brow contracted.

"I...think I hurt myself," he muttered, swallowing.

"Let me see," Teyla tried to sit up farther, then winced as a stabbing pain lashed through her midsection.

"Hey, are you okay?" Sheppard demanded, his eyes opening.

"It is nothing. I am not bleeding," she countered through her teeth, making herself slide even closer to him. Gently, for she could now fully feel her arms and legs, she stretched out and tried to explore his side with her fingertips. Her fingers, quickly growing numb, met the rough material of his now-torn utility vest. However, though she shudderingly felt plenty of warm blood, she could not find the wound.

"You're hiding your hurt from me," Teyla shivered, pushing a strand of hair out of her face with her forearm.

Sheppard looked at her.

"Actually," He shifted experimentally. "All the muscles in my arm are locked up. I can't move it."

"Oh, no," Teyla murmured in realization. "You have probably broken your arm."

"The thought crossed my mind when I turned over and almost started crying like a baby," he growled, taking a breath and trying to adjust his shoulders again.

"No, no, no," Teyla said quickly, grabbing him and keeping him down. "Don't move---you will only make it worse."

"It's just that I'm...intensely uncomfortable at the moment." His face twisted.

"All right, just relax and I'll look at it." Reaching inside her utility vest, she managed to pull out some sanitary wipes and cleaned her hands, then tossed them aside. Once again, her eyes adjusting more and more to the dimness, she reached toward him and took careful hold of his arm.

"I'm just going to lift it and----"

"_Ow!_" he yelped, throwing his head forward.

"Sh, sh, sh," she soothed. "Lie back down. It's all right. Relax. You must relax."

Breathing raggedly, he eased back down and squeezed his eyes shut.

"You're always telling me that," he muttered. She found his left hand, which was clenched in a fist. She closed both her hands around it and pressed, then rubbed it gently, working her fingers down between his to get them to warm up and unclasp.

"You gotta talk," he said roughly, swallowing again.

"What?" she glanced at him. He turned his head to her.

"Talk to me, Teyla. Distract me."

"Oh...Well, I shall try." She struggled to think. "The...reason Elizabeth had us come was...because the MALP had malfunctioned, and...well, we hadn't heard from the people of this planet for so long."

"Sounds right so far," John said through his teeth. His forefinger loosened just a bit. Teyla kept working.

"Then the Gate shut off, without letting Ronon or Dr. McKay through," she continued. "And then holes opened in the ground and let out machines that looked like drones."

"Yeah," John hissed. "That was weird."

"And apparently this particular..._drone _didn't activate and didn't come out," Teyla concluded, finally opening his fingers enough to get her hand inside his.

"I wish it had," Sheppard sighed.

"Why?" Teyla asked, now just simply pressing his hand between hers to warm it.

"Well, then I wouldn't have had so far to fall." He closed his eyes again. "And I might not have stabbed myself on on those stupid fins."

"Stabbed..." Teyla whispered, a chill running down her spine. "In your side?"

He just nodded.

"You're not having trouble breathing are you?"

"Easy on the hand, Teyla," he advised, smiling slightly in spite of everything. She had not realized that she had squeezed it harder.

"Oh, yes." She tried to gather herself. "Can you...move your fingers at all?"

"I'll try it." His expression indicated an attempt, but then he bit his lip and swiftly shook his head. "Not unless you want me to cry like a baby again."

Teyla shifted, then undid the velcro on the end of his sleeve, opening the sleeve up so she could get to more of his arm. Deftly, she ran her fingertips along the back of his hand and up the twin bones of his arm until Sheppard let out another sharp grunt and she felt the breaks in both bones.

"It's very near your wrist," she told him. Then she lowered her head and tried to look at him firmly. "I have to move your arm to get to that wound."

"Okay, okay," he resigned, closing his eyes again and clearly bracing himself. Sliding one hand carefully under the break, and the other under his elbow, she raised his arm and then lowered it down to his side. The muscles had relaxed somewhat, and so she was able to find see the location of the wound.

His side was covered in blood. Trying not to think, Teyla swiftly took out a knife and began cutting away his vest---which took some doing, for the material was tough---and then easily sliced through the black T-shirt underneath. Putting the knife back, she tore the material away and exposed the wound to the dim light that she did have.

Teyla sat back on her heels and dropped her hands, feeling all the color and warmth drain from her face. Suddenly, she felt faint.

"What's the matter, Teyla?" John asked. "You've seen blood before."

Teyla lifted her eyes to his, which shone even in the darkness, and clamped her jaw.

_Yes, but this is different_...

Biting down hard, stamping out the surge of dread that invaded her chest, she leaned closer again, trying not to obscure the light.

"You...it...It looks rather deep," she said, trying not to sound strangled. The fin had punctured a hole in his side between his ribs, and appeared as if it had gone all the way through. It was hard to tell, though---there was too much blood. Abruptly, Teyla's heart began to pound.

"I have to stop this bleeding," she gasped, tearing open more pouches on her vest and pulling out thick field bandages to make a pressure dressing.

"I need you to turn on your right side a little for me," Teyla urged.

"I'll try not to swear," John gritted as she helped turn him just slightly. Then, as quickly as her shaking hands would allow, she pressed two thick pads against the entry and exit wounds, then took the long bandage and laboriously began wrapping it tightly all around his chest. This took some doing, for half of the time she had to bear his weight, since he could not support himself on more than one arm.

"Gah!" Sheppard released and laid back down after the job was finally finished. Teyla, exhausted, sat back, her bloody hands palms up on her knees.

"Well," Sheppard panted. "I'm glad that the medical team insisted we make that first-aid gear part of our uniforms."

"That was very wise of them," Teyla agreed, her heart still racing.

"It's...cold down here," he commented, obviously trying to calm his breathing. Teyla nodded and lifted her head, casting her gaze about. She could now see the walls of their prison---hard, smooth stone, all the way around, and far above, a crescent-shaped opening where the door had failed to close completely.

"Yes...Very cold," she concurred, and saw her breath turn to a cloud. Her dread threatened to rise again. "We need to get out of here."

"I'm not in an incredible hurry right now," Sheppard answered crankily. "We can stand it for a little longer. I used to work in the _Arctic_, so this isn't too bad."

"But---" Teyla tried. Sheppard answered her steadily.

"You know that even as we speak, McKay is working feverishly to get the Gate back online. When he does, all they'll have to do is take two steps to figure out where we went."

Teyla did not answer. She did not want to shake that possibility from his mind. He settled back and closed his eyes again.

"We'll sit tight for a while. In a few hours, if we haven't heard from them...then we'll move to a plan B."

As always, Teyla nodded in reluctant resignation, then set about building a sling for him out of the extra strips of bandage.

"It is getting dark," Teyla stared upward, watching twilight tinge the edge of their glimpse of sky.

"Is it?" Sheppard came out of an uneasy doze and looked around. "Yeah. Whaddya

know."

"And it has been...four hours since we fell down here," Teyla sighed, checking her watch. She tried to make a fist. "I can barely feel my fingers."

"Well, move your hands around, and blow into them. You don't want to get frostbite," Sheppard instructed, suddenly urgent. Then he growled. "I wish that stupid MALP had stayed on a bit longer to show us the snow. I'd really love a big, heavy coat right now."

"Me, too," Teyla answered quietly. She could not really see him anymore---he was just a shape in the gathering dark. She did as he ordered, cupping her hands around her mouth and breathing into them.

"How are you doing?" she asked hesitatingly, trying to keep her worry to herself. Sheppard made a face.

"Well...my entire left side is numb, and it feels like some giant rodent is chewing on my arm."

"Whatever Rodney is doing, it isn't working," Teyla said tightly. "We need to---" She stopped. Her eyes narrowed as she stared past him at the wall about fifty feet in front of her. "What is that?"

Sheppard craned his neck to follow her gaze.

"Huh," he shifted a bit. "It looks like...like a service door, or something."

Teyla's heart leaped.

"Why didn't we see that before?" She hurriedly got to her feet. "It shouldn't be hard to open. I'll go look at it."

"Here," Sheppard took hold of her ankle. "I think I have a glowstick in my upper vest pocket, here."

Teyla bent down again, opened the pocket he indicated, and pulled out a short, plastic stick.

"What is this?" Teyla asked.

"Bend it until it snaps," Sheppard ordered. Wondering, Teyla did as he said. The _snap _resounded through the silo and suddenly the stick illuminated with a brilliant green light. Initially, it blinded her, and she jerked it away from her face. Then, after she had spent a few moments blinking away the dazzle, she realized that she could see a great deal by its light---not the least of which was John, his face smudged with dirt and blood, his mouth set, his eyes watching her expectantly, and his brow riddled with pain.

Instantly, she had no inclination to leave his side.

"What are you waiting for?" John asked quietly, laying his head back again. He blinked, and the weariness in that action sent a dart of fear through her.

"Will you be all right?" she asked. He nodded dismissively.

"Yeah, yeah. Go check out our exit."

"Let me check the bleeding first." Teyla switched the glowstick to her other hand and lifted his torn shirt.

"Teyla---" he said irritably.

"Just a moment," she answered back patiently. She brought the glowstick closer and felt the bandage. "It looks like the bleeding has stopped."

"Good. Now quit making a big deal out of it and go check on that exit," he snapped. Teyla's jaw tightened and her expression hardened.

"Yes, Colonel," she said flatly, stood up and walked past him toward the door, leaving him in the darkness behind her. She ignored the twinge of worry this caused her---he had ordered her to go look to the door.

Upon drawing nearer, her feet crunching on the gravelly soil beneath, she discovered a set of rude, stone stairs leading up to the door. The soles of her feet tapped as she carefully ascended them, and then she reached the object that had caught her eye: a doorframe made of lighter stone than the stone around it. Upon feeling it, she found that the door was freezing metal, and the activator to the left of it was dead. Setting her teeth, she pushed her numbing fingertips into the edge of the door, trying to see if it could be opened by force.

"I think I detected a...reproof in that last word you used." Sheppard's voice echoed dully through the shadow behind. She glanced back. She could barely see him now. Her eyebrow cocked anyway.

"A reproof?" she repeated, turning her attention back to the door.

"Yeah. You called me 'Colonel,'" he reminded her. "I thought we'd had this discussion."

"Have we?" Teyla asked evasively, bracing herself to begin tugging on the door.

"Sure. I told you that you could call me 'John' off the clock."

Teyla stopped. Whether he knew it or not, that subject vividly brought to mind a sparring session long ago. He had attacked her, driven her back against the wall...then dropped his weapons, taken her face in his hands and---

Teyla bit her lip, knocking the memory of his fervent kiss from her thoughts. He had been infected by the Retrovirus at the time, and had not been himself. The kiss had meant nothing. At least not to him.

"We are very much on the clock," Teyla countered, trying to keep the shakiness from her voice. "I have no idea how much blood you have lost, and if it keeps getting colder..." She trailed off, throwing more of her force into the door. Pain panged across her midsection again, but again she paid it no mind. It was not important.

For nearly half an hour, she worked tirelessly on the door. She finally set the glowstick down, knelt and used both hands, digging her fingers into the grooves of the door and pulling with all she had. Leaning thus against it, she could hear the gears inside shifting, just slightly. Too slightly. It might take her all night to get this door open. And the pain in her chest was growing worse.

Panting, she finally eased down and sat, leaning back against it. Then, she realized that it had been a while since she had heard any noise from Sheppard.

"John?" she called out. Her voice reverberated off the hard walls. There came no answer. She held her breath. Her gaze darted upward. Full night had descended. She could even catch a peek at two or three stars through the gap high above their heads. The wind's lonely voice moaned as it blew over the roof of their prison. That was all she heard. Her heart thudded.

"John!" she cried, unable to keep the urgency from her tone.

"I'm here." His answer was faint and weary, but there. Teyla swallowed hard.

"How are you feeling?" she managed. No answer came for another long, awful moment, and then she heard him take a breath.

"I'm...really..._really cold_."

Teyla snatched up the glowstick, whose light was beginning to fade a little, and headed down the stairs. She found him as she had left him, though his face seemed a bit more haggard.

"Is there anything I can do?" Teyla asked. He shook his head.

"No, no, don't worry about it. I'm all right." He blinked as she came around to stand beside him. Sluggishly, he raised his eyes to hers and actually smiled. "I'm sorry," he whispered. She cocked her head.

"For what?"

"For...barking at you like that," he told her. "If it wasn't for you I'd just be lying here bleeding to death."

Teyla's stomach tightened. But he did not close his eyes again to rest. He kept looking at her, his expression becoming open and sad. He canted his head slightly.

"Did anyone ever tell you how pretty you are?" he asked quietly. Teyla glanced down at herself---the glowstick illuminated her torn clothes covered with dirt.

"You _have _lost too much blood," she answered, trying to lighten the comment.

"No, I'm serious," he said in the same tone as before. "In fact, you're...one of the prettiest women I've ever seen."

Teyla's heartbeat sped up once more. The fact that he was revealing this worried her. It smacked of despair.

"John," she tried faintly. His mouth twitched and he glanced away.

"It's okay. I should have told you this earlier, too, but you've...you've always been great. On every mission, there's been...nobody that I trusted more than you. And I...well, I..." He stopped himself and met her eyes again. "You can't get the door open, can you?"

Trembling, Teyla reluctantly shook her head. He took a breath, then smiled again.

"It's okay. I know you tried. You..." He sighed, then nodded reassuringly. "You did good, Teyla."

His words hurt her. She shook her head stiffly and evened out her voice.

"I'm not done trying. If we have to wait until morning to do anything, so be it. But I'm not leaving you here, John Sheppard."

"Well, there isn't too much else you _can_ do, is there?" He finally closed his eyes again. "Even in the morning, I doubt if I'll be able to get up. I...can't really even feel my legs anymore."

Teyla lowered the glowstick so that he would not see her put the back of her hand to her mouth. Inside, her heart raged. She was not giving up on him.

Hesitating for just a moment, she knelt down on his right side, then stretched out next to him, draping her arm across his chest and also resting her head there. She pressed her body as close to his as possible, absorbing the cold of his limbs and willing the warmth of hers to enter his.

"I am not leaving you, John Sheppard," she said fiercely again, pulling him tighter.

She felt his breathing stagger for a moment, and then he took a sharp breath. He swallowed audibly.

"Thank you," he said, his voice rough with emotion. That was all he uttered, but with what strength he had, he leaned toward her gratefully as she listened to the beat of his heart.

Tirelessly, for endless hours, Teyla rubbed her chilled hand up and down, back and forth across John's chest, keeping his lungs and heart as warm as she could. The night deepened. Every time she breathed out, a cloud encircled her head, then condensed on their shoulders and frosted. The glowstick faded and faded. Once in a while, Teyla would adjust her position and check to see what the sky looked like.

Somewhere around one in the morning, the stars disappeared---and with them seemed to vanish all the warmth out of John's body. She felt it gradually seep out of him---and then she heard his heartbeat slow.

"John?" She sat up, her muscles stiff and cramped. He did not answer. "John," she said again, taking hold of his right hand. It felt like ice. Biting her cheek, Teyla began to rub his arm furiously, and then his chest again. "John, come on. Do not do this," she pleaded. She moved down and rubbed his legs until the skin on her hands burned from the rough material. He had not stirred. Her hands thoroughly warm now, she pressed them against either side of his face, and then down against his neck.

"John, please," she whispered, laying her head down on his chest again to listen to his heart.

Then he took a deep breath.

"Teyla..."

She jerked her head up to look at him. She could barely see him by the light of the dying glowstick.

"What's wrong?" he asked sluggishly, lifting his head a bit. A great wave of relief kept Teyla from speaking for a moment.

"You...You were getting too cold," she finally answered. She rose up a little but kept rubbing him. "How do you feel?"

He did not reply.

"Answer me, John. How do you feel?" she demanded.

"If you must know, I'm tingling all over," he sighed wearily.

"Good." Teyla nodded. "Your circulation is coming back."

Again, he did not say anything to that. Her brow twisting, she kept massaging, pushing aside the pain in her chest and her own almost-overpowering exhaustion. After several long minutes, he reached up and took hold of her wrist.

"It's okay," he murmured. "I feel better now."

"John---"

"No, I really do," he cut in. "You can...rest for a while."

Fighting to keep the cold from creeping into her own bones, Teyla shiveringly lay down beside him again, nuzzling her head against his vest. All was silent again, except the beating of his heart, which, she noticed thankfully, had resumed a more regular rate.

At about two, however, Teyla caught a glimpse of something in the last dying rays of the glowstick. She did not sit up---merely adjusted her head to see better. But before she could say anything, John spoke.

"It's snowing, isn't it?"

Teyla's heart became heavy.

"Yes," she breathed. The two were mostly out of the way of the falling flakes, but as the flakes increased in number and speed, they settled on Teyla's back and both of their legs. Neither of them said anything for a long time. The temperature dropped further. Then, at last, the glowstick went out. Blackness and utter silence consumed them.

"Teyla..." John's voice reverberated through her head, even in its quietness. "I'm gonna die."

At any other time, she would not have listened. She would have answered swiftly to the contrary and offered some evidence that he ought to maintain hope. But now, after no help had arrived for hours and hours, after John had lost so much blood and as the temperature kept plunging---the possibility of his dying suddenly slammed into her with unavoidable reality.

Tears sprang to her eyes as all the emotions she had kept hidden for so long threatened to overwhelm all her barriers.

"John," she gasped into his shirt, her voice quivering uncontrollably. "You mustn't say things like that."

"Teyla, I know what it feels like, okay?" he answered in resignation. "I've nearly been sucked to death by a Wraith and they told me that if he'd gone on for one more second I would have been dead. And...that's about what I feel like right now."

Teyla screwed her eyes shut, refusing to listen to him.

"I want you to get out," he continued. "I want you to get out of here somehow and get to a safe place---hopefully back to Atlantis. Don't worry about coming back for me---there isn't anybody back home to send my body to. Just have a...nice little somethin' back on Atlantis where folks can---"

"John, stop!" she commanded, unable to stand it anymore. "Please stop."

"Teyla, listen---" he tried.

"No, I can't bear it," she choked. "When I...Even when I first met you, you had faith in me. You helped the people of Atlantis accept me and you...you gave me a home. And you...I..." Her tears spilled down her cheeks. "I have no home but where you are. If you die, I am dying beside you."

"I don't want you to do that," he said with excessive firmness. "You have to go. That's an order."

Teyla began to cry. She had survived so much else, so many trials and dangers, and never shed a tear. She had always been too strong. But this command broke her, and though she fought it, tears ran down her face and she jerked with restrained sobs. Her hand closed around the front of his shirt and she buried her face in his vest, trying to stifle her sounds.

"No," she whispered through her teeth. "No."

He did not answer. He could not. Instead, he wrapped his right arm tightly around her and leaned his head over so it rested on hers.

"Okay," he whispered apologetically, rubbing her back and resettling his head against hers. They remained that way, and though Teyla listened intently, his heartbeat did not slow again.

There was light. Teyla could see it through her eyelids. She opened her eyes just a bit, and realized that it was nearing dawn. The drone-like machine was covered in snow, and a little light tinged it.Snow slid down off her head and down her neck as she sat up a little.

"It's nearly day," she murmured. She turned back to John. He looked asleep, and was breathing steadily. But the more she could see, the more she disliked his color. She dared to reach down and touch his forehead and side of his face. After a moment, his eyes fluttered open, but he momentarily seemed to have trouble focusing on her. However, when he did, he broke into a grin.

"See?" he said hoarsely. "I did ya proud. I lived through the night."

Teyla smiled tearfully back at him, her heart warming.

"Well done, John."

His smile faded.

"I do want to tell you something, though," he added.

"Yes, well, first," Teyla dodged. "I need to try to find something in here that I can---" She stopped. Her eyes unfocused as a strange, chilling presence crept into the corners of her mind. And in that moment, that bit of hope she had just allowed now died suddenly.

"What is it?" John asked, hushed, gripping her hand. She took a tight breath.

"It is...a Wraith," she answered slowly and breathlessly.

John took a moment to digest that.

"_What?"_

"He is coming this way. But he feels..." Teyla closed her eyes, trying to concentrate. "He feels...different. Vague...as if he is...partly human." Her eyes snapped open. John was staring at her hard.

"Michael," he gritted. Teyla's eyes flashed, and she nodded cautiously.

"Yes. Now that you say so...I do believe I recognize him."

"Where is he?" Sheppard questioned. Teyla closed her eyes again.

"I am not sure," she confessed. "Quite close. In fact he could be---"

"_Open this door!_"

"My lord, it's jammed!"

She jerked up, realizing that the voices had thundered from behind the service door.

"John, he's right outside," Teyla hissed.

"We're out in the middle of the floor!" he said through his teeth, attempting to rise. "Help me up! We can...crawl under the drone thing. It's propped up on some legs---there might be room underneath."

Not risking a protest, Teyla reached down and slung his arm over her shoulders and rose. He clearly wanted to cry out, but he bit down on the urge and helped her as best he could, though Teyla felt how weak he was. They limped toward the drone, their muscles cramped and sore, and finally reached it. The service door was beginning to squeal as outside force was applied.

"Hurry, hurry," John urged. She helped him sit back down, and he used his good arm to slide himself underneath the large machine.

"Get in here!" he ordered. She tried to get in on the other side of him, closer to the door, but he grabbed her foot.

"No, other side."

"But---"

"Don't argue!" he interrupted as the door gave another jerk. "I want to be between you and the bad guys. Now come on."

The door gave another ominous tug. Biting down, Teyla did as he instructed. The rough soil scraped her hands, and she almost banged her head on the underside of the drone. There was only about two feet of clearance between it and the ground. The door gave a long screech.

"Come here," John insisted quietly, tugging on her shirt. She scooted closer and he pulled her with his good arm. He was lying on his right side, and he drew her snugly into his chest and rested his chin on the top of her head, enclosing her protectively. A deafening bang issued from the door. His arm muscles tightened.

"Come hell or high water, I'm not moving," he growled. Teyla gritted her teeth, filling with fear. She knew all too well that if she could sense Michael---well, he also had the ability to sense _her,_ and recognize her. And if he found _her_...

Her fingers closed around John's vest. John was in no position to fight. And she could not take on both a Wraith and an armed man. Squeezing her eyes shut, she did the only thing she could think of: concentrate on making herself nonexistent. She wanted to dissolve herself into her surroundings, and thus she concentrated on those sensations: the hard, dark, scratchy dust beneath her; the dry frigidity of the air; the rough weave of John's utility vest beneath her hand and cheek; his breathing; the warmth of his arm around her; the beat of his heart---everything about him. She ignored herself completely and melted into John.

The door crashed open, and the footsteps of two beings pounded down the stairs.

"There was no need to do that to the door," a distinctly human voice protested.

"I am tired of waiting. It is too cold in these outer corridors," a distinctively _Wraith _voice answered back, and its cool, displeased power doubtlessly quelled the tongue of the follower. Teyla squeezed her eyes shut more tightly and tried to focus. It _was _Michael.

The footsteps neared them, and then stopped just beside the drone. Sheppard tried to regulate and soften his breathing. Teyla breathed in sync with him.

"The overhead door is still open!" Michael suddenly raged. "There is snow all over this pod, and it is nearly below freezing in here!"

"My lord---"

"Do you not understand?" Michael rumbled dangerously. "The reason I _put _all of these down here was because of the sudden climate change! This pod could be _dead_. And who knows how many more doors malfunctioned this way because _you _activated the Gate

prematurely!"

"As I told you before, _I _did not activate the Gate!" the minion answered shakily.

"Then are you telling me that your program _failed _to take complete control of the Gate on this planet and you _lied _to me?"

There was silence for a moment. The minion swallowed.

"No, my lord."

"That is what I thought," Michael snarled. "Then see to it that the Gate does _not _activate until exactly two hours from now, or I will keep this pod here until it hatches and let them have you."

"Yes my lord," the minion whispered.

"I want them sent directly into the heart of Atlantis," Michael went on. "Even they will not be able to contend with a thousand of them. Not in their Gateroom."

One pair of booted feet about-faced, and began striding toward the door again.

"I will go back _myself _to the control room, shut this door, reactivate everything and send in some treatment," Michael announced from farther away. "You stay here, check the vitals of the pod and then keep going to the others to see if they're alive."

"Yes, my lord," the minion agreed. Michael's footsteps died away. The underling stood there for a moment, pulled something out of his pocket, then growled under his breath.

"To blazes with your pod," he muttered. "It's fine. Chewed me out for nothing..." With that, he turned and walked back out the door with what had doubtlessly been a lifesigns detector. Teyla realized faintly that the pod's life readings must have covered their own.

Neither Teyla nor John moved until all all echoes of footsteps died away. Then, Teyla felt John relax.

"Well, that took a lot of energy," he sighed.

"What?" she wondered, coming back to herself.

"Trying not to scream while you dug your fingers into my chest," he grunted.

"Oh!" Teyla backed up a little and blushed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. Let's get out of here."

Helping each other, they dragged out from beneath the pod.

"So Michael's taken to calling himself 'lord', now, huh?" Sheppard managed as they emerged.

"That's what it sounds like," Teyla agreed grimly, sliding out and pulling him along. "And I have little doubt that these pods are vehicles for those egg sacks full of his retro-monsters."

"Man, I hate those guys," Sheppard made a face. They finally got out from underneath and Sheppard laid back down. Teyla sat beside him, but then froze. A deep rumbling noise issued from overhead, and then the spiraling door high above slid shut, leaving them in pitch darkness.

"Um---" Sheppard started.

_Clack!_

The next instant, the missile silo was flooded with bright, artificial lighting from lamps that ringed the overhead door. Teyla and Sheppard squinted and blinked against the brightness, but at last they could see completely again. She looked down at a ragged Sheppard.

"Hello," he said, smiling a little. "Haven't seen you in a while."

Teyla tried not to smile.

"Well, Michael did say something about reactivating everything," he mused, back to business. Teyla could see how pallid he was, and that this last struggle had severely drained him. "But he also said he'd send in some treatment. I wonder what---"

_Twang_.

They twitched to see that the control panel next to the door had come back to life, but the next instant the door whizzed closed.

"The door---"

A sharp hissing sound interrupted her. It only took one glance to see thousands of tiny holes in the wall spraying clouds of orange gas.

Sheppard swore.

"Cover your nose and mouth with something!" he cried over the hissing. Teyla snatched the front of her shirt and hooked it up over her nose. Sheppard grabbed her by the back of her head and pushed her face against his chest. He also turned over and covered his nose and mouth with his arm. However, they could not possibly hold their breath forever.

The orange cloud filled the room, entering every space. Teyla could feel it tingling against her skin. Still she held her breath.

Suddenly, John gasped. He had not been able to keep control---he had breathed in the poison.

_No!_

He relaxed. Then he took another deep breath. Then another.

"Teyla," he said, and his voice sounded---relieved. "Teyla, you can breathe. It's okay!"

Shaking, Teyla lowered her collar and, refusing to think and just trusting him, took a breath.

Her whole body was flooded with tingling, wonderful, wholesome air. Strength and warmth surged through her muscles, and the pain in her side which had accompanied her all night gradually dimmed.

"Oh, wow," Sheppard sounded almost excited. "I can feel my feet again."

They just laid there, inhaling this vapor of healing, for interminable minutes. Then, a deep _whooshing _came from up above, and all of the orange gas vented from the chamber in a matter of moments.

Teyla sat up. John sat up right next to her. They looked at each other in astonishment.

"What was _that_?" John wondered. "That was amazing!" His gaze had sharpened, and color had come back into his face. Teyla managed to restrain a warm, overwhelming surge of relief. Suddenly and inexplicably, he was going to be all right.

"I have no idea what it was. Perhaps that was Michael's 'treatment'," Teyla surmised. "But...it is _considerably _warmer in here now."

"Well, that's a relief. Now maybe we can do something about his little retro

experiment."

"What?" Teyla was confused.

"Weren't you paying attention?" He questioned, reaching up to grab the pod to pull himself up. Teyla helped him and rose to her feet as well.

"When?" she asked.

"When he was talking about sending his creatures through the Gate to Atlantis," he reminded her.

"Oh, yes," Teyla blinked. "It's a little fuzzy."

"What were you doing?" he questioned, adjusting his vest and starting to look for his gun.

"Yes, I remember," she bluffed hastily, blushing again. "Do you have a plan?"

"Well...yeah." His voice lowered and his expression closed. Wincing, he bent to pick up her gun and tossed it to her. Deftly, she caught it, and waited for him to speak.

"You were visiting your people when we came to check this place out," John informed her. "Now that I think about it, they mentioned something about severe climate changes coming over this planet once every hundred years or so." He finally found his gun and picked it up, shaking the dirt off of it. "So they built the equivalent of a city underground, to protect them from the cold. I can see why," he muttered. "The Vashtians kinda...showed me around part of the tunnels."

"They did?" Teyla said, surprised. He shrugged.

"Well, just a little bit." He looked at her. "The...control station and stuff."

Suddenly, she did not like the tone of his voice. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Sheppard, what are you---"

He glanced down at his watch.

"We don't have a lot of time. Michael's gonna dial that Gate in about an hour and a half. We need to find our way up and out before then. Come on."

"Are you sure you can---"

"Yes," he answered, abrupt steel in his tone. "Come on." And he forced his legs to stride quickly toward the steps, and Teyla had no choice but to follow him.

This section of the station seemed largely empty, but both of them knew that could change any moment. Teyla sensed Michael, but just distantly, and he was not heading toward them. Apparently, the thought that he should use his Wraith telepathy here under the earth and snow had mercifully not occurred to him. She could also sense what she assumed were the retro-creatures---several of them---and their presences gave her the creeps.

She and Sheppard hurried through the raw-wired, dim, metal corridors as quickly as their injuries would allow. She hoped Sheppard's sense of direction was better than hers, for he soon had turned too many corners for her to keep track.

"Aha, I found it," he finally whispered triumphantly, stopping before a door.

"What is it?" Teyla wondered, keeping an eye on both ends of the corridor.

"An elevator. Come on." He activated the door, and the two of them entered the elevator backwards, guns trained on the hallway until the door slid shut.

"Now..._please _work," John almost threatened as he punched a few buttons. Teyla's hands tensed around her weapon as the buttons _dinged_, and then a whirring sound encompassed them as the elevator began a slow ascent.

"They will probably notice this," Teyla reminded him. He nodded.

"Yeah, probably," was all he said. She tightened her jaw and did not speak again. She could see it in his eyes---some desperate plan lurked there, but she did not have the nerve to pry it out of him. Not yet.

The elevator jerked to a halt and the doors swished open.

Blinding wind and light assaulted them, and ice and snow blew into the little chamber. They were on the surface now.

"There it is!" Sheppard pointed.

"What?" she called back.

"Look! Right out there!"

Teyla's eyes widened. A tall, black ring in the distance stood out against the snowy white.

"The Gate!"

"Yeah," he confirmed. "When Michael activates the Gate to let his pods through, you'll be clear. Tell Rodney what's going on. I'm sure Michael has figured out how to bypass our shields. If I don't make it out in time, Rodney needs to recalibrate the shields to keep those pods out. I'll shut the Gate as soon as you're through. Don't let Atlantis try to activate the Gate before I get back."

Teyla stopped. She turned to him, and saw the same resignation in his eyes that she had heard in his voice during the night.

"You're...No, you're coming with me," she argued, disbelief rushing through her. He shook his head and bit his lip.

"I can't. I need to get down there and figure out how to sabotage the controls for the pods so that Rodney can get control of the Gate back."

"Then I'm coming with you," Teyla decided.

"No, you can't," he said firmly. Her expression pained and she swallowed.

"Why?"

"Teyla, you know as well as anybody that sneaking is best done on your own." He lowered his head and looked more deeply at her. "I don't want you captured by Michael again."

Teyla began shaking her head slowly, then more insistently.

"No. John, I won't---"

"Teyla," he said again, stepping closer and putting his hand to the side of her face. He leaned down toward her and spoke directly. "I need you to go back and warn Rodney."

Teyla was shaking, trying to gather her thoughts.

"There is a _Wraith _down there, with who knows how many creatures living in those tunnels," Teyla bit back tears again. "And you are hurt."

"All right, what if...What if I promise to come back to Atlantis within at least...twenty-four hours?" he proposed, an edge of desperation to his voice. "I need to tell you something anyway. Will that work?"

"John..." she whispered. His hand moved to the base of her neck and squeezed.

"Come on, Teyla," he said ardently. "Have I ever broken my word?"

She searched his rugged face and met his penetrating eyes.

"No," she confessed. He nodded crisply.

"Then go and wait for me." He pushed her toward the door. "I'll be there in a little while."

She stumbled out into the snow and turned back to face him. He punched a button. The doors began to close. She watched him simply stand there, left arm in her makeshift sling. He attempted to give her a smile. Then he was gone---the machinery groaned as it took him back down. Teyla squeezed her eyes shut. The pain in her chest had returned.

"Unscheduled offworld activation!"

The Gate blazed to life. Ronon, Zelenka, Dr. Weir and McKay, who had not moved from the Gateroom since the others had vanished, leaped to their feet.

"Any identification?" Dr. Weir questioned.

"Uh...Wait! It's Teyla's IDC!" Rodney exclaimed.

"Lower the shield!"

The controllers did so, and after a moment of everyone holding his breath, Teyla strode through. Everyone stared at her. She held her gun at firm parade rest. Her clothes were torn and covered with black dirt and blood. Her face was smudged as well, and utterly blank of all expression. The second she was through, the Gate shut with a deafening bang. Without even breaking stride, Teyla marched right up to the control deck and up to Rodney.

"Teyla! What in the world happened?" he demanded.

"Michael has taken over this part of the planet," Teyla said, as if she was reciting a script. "He has put several egg-pods of his retro-creature inside drone-like machines that he has scheduled to activate and propel to Atlantis as soon as the Gate is opened---he has taken almost absolute control over the Gate. Colonel Sheppard wanted me to warn you of this."

"Where is he then?" Ronon wanted to know, eyeing her. Teyla faced him, but her expression did not change.

"Right now, Colonel Sheppard is attempting to sabotage Michael's systems so that Rodney can gain control of the Gate back."

"Oh, which probably means he's hitting it with a hammer!" Rodney cried.

"He said he would return within twenty-four hours," Teyla continued flatly. "Do not try to activate the Gate until he does. He told me to wait for him."

Without staying to listen to Rodney's exclamations about how inadequate Sheppard was at delicate sabotage, Teyla turned around and strode out of the Gate room.

Without thought, Teyla took off her gear, left her weapon and went to her chambers. With mechanical precision, she quickly washed herself, dried, combed her hair and put on clean, civilian clothes, ignoring her shaking hands. Putting her feet on automatic pilot, she returned directly to the Gateroom.

Everyone was bustling around in a strange panic, trying to figure a way to wrest control away from Michael in order to send in help. Teyla said nothing to anyone she met. She made her way onto the Gateroom floor, stood directly in front of the Gate, and sat down.

In a moment, she heard familiar footsteps approach her.

"Teyla," Dr. Weir said quietly. "What are you doing? You're covered in cuts---you need to go the infirmary to get checked out, and get some food."

"No, Elizabeth," Teyla answered, not taking her eyes from the Gate. "I cannot."

"Teyla," Dr. Weir tried, remaining gentle. "That doesn't make sense. We're working on a way to get the Gate back in our control, and you'll need to be part of the team that goes in to get him back. You need your strength!"

"No," Teyla said again. "I won't go get food while he's sitting back there freezing. He told me to wait. He had something to tell me."

Apparently, the unaccustomed steel in Teyla's voice dissuaded Elizabeth from speaking further, and she moved away. Teyla took a breath. Elizabeth did not understand. If John did not come back, Teyla would never forgive herself for leaving him behind.

It was nearing dawn of the following day. Whether it was because of Sheppard's order or Rodney's inability (the latter of which Teyla severely doubted), no attempts had been made to dial the Gate. When darkness had fallen outside, all of the lights dimmed except the vitals. Still Teyla sat, facing the same direction, counting the hours. However, she wished she had left her watch in her quarters. To see the deadline creeping closer caused her blood to turn to ice. The pain in her chest throbbed back and forth, and she bit her tongue against it.

More footsteps approached---heavy, deliberate ones. Ronon.

"Teyla..." he murmured. "Why don't you get some rest?"

"I wouldn't be able to sleep," she answered honestly.

"Doesn't your back hurt from sitting here so long?" he asked, easing down beside her.

"I hurt everywhere."

There was silence for a moment.

"You're injured, aren't you?" he pointed out. Reluctantly, Teyla nodded.

"Well then why don't you---"

"Ronon," Teyla stopped him, finally facing him. She searched his eyes, wondering if he would understand. "I can't leave. He told me to wait for him. If I don't wait...it will be like I gave up on him."

Unexpectedly, Ronon smiled.

"I understand," he rumbled. Putting a hand on her shoulder, he rose up and left her. Teyla took a deep breath and turned back to the Gate. Three more hours. Then the deadline would be breached.

The deadline passed. It was well into the early morning now. Teyla had watched the sun rise through the magnificent windows, and with it rose her despair. Rodney was now in a frenzy, apparently having decided to disobey Sheppard's request, and the other scientists, Dr. Weir, and Ronon followed him around, pressing him insistently for information.

Teyla said nothing. No one troubled her, but she heard several people whisper sympathetically about her from a distance. She felt weak and faint, but she would not move. Even though she fought against it, her hope was fading.

"This will work, I promise you!" Rodney's voice echoed through the Gateroom. "It will take at least two hours to recalibrate all the systems, but when we do we can send twenty teams through if we want. That is...if he's still alive."

Teyla's head dropped. She covered her face with both hands. All night she had tried to deny it, but Rodney's words seemed to be the death-knell.

_What would she do if he did not come back? _

A powerful whir of energy vibrated the floor. Suddenly, the Gate blazed to life, showering its sapphire brilliance through the chamber.

"What the---" Rodney yelped.

"Incoming wormhole!" someone shouted. Teyla shielded her eyes against the brightness until they adjusted, her heartbeat racing. Defying the stiffness in her joints, she leaped to her feet, her hands clenching into fists, her eyes flashing.

"It's Colonel Sheppard's IDC!" some other controller exulted.

"Lower the shields," Dr. Weir commanded. The words were barely out of her mouth before a battered, injured, but _alive _John Sheppard strode through.

He took three steps, then stopped, his eyes fixing on Teyla. He seemed momentarily thrown, and then a smile stole across his lips.

"You waited for me," he stated, as if amazed.

"Well," Teyla, trying to control her voice, clasped her hands in front of her. "You...said that you wanted to tell me something."

"Yeah," Sheppard said tightly, nodding. He swallowed and glanced down. "I, uh...I guess I'd better tell you, then. Well, you know I'm not...not too...good at...talking," he began. "Especially when it comes to...this type of thing, but..." He cleared his throat and shifted his weight, still staring at the floor. Teyla attended him intently, but dared not supply any words for him. He laughed uneasily.

"It's funny that...it took a lot of time being in the dark to...make me see things clearly. I...never really..._let _myself see it before, I guess. I just..." He risked a glance up at her face, then looked down again. "Thinking..._knowing_ that I was gonna die down there---it made me see

that..." Finally, he lifted his face, his expression open and vulnerable. "Teyla...I love you."

Teyla stood, staring at him. There was fear in his eyes. How strange---after all the grave dangers he had faced, he was _afraid. _Her next words could harm him so deeply.

Tears pricked her, and with a shaky smile, she approached him. For a moment, she simply stood before him as he waited. Then, she reached up, placed both hands on his shoulders, and lowered her head. She felt him cautiously lean down and press his forehead to hers, in the fond greeting of her people. Then she raised her head, met his eyes for just a heartbeat, then leaned in and kissed him deeply.

Caught off guard, he breathed in sharply but did not withdraw. Instead, he wrapped his good arm around her and pulled her closer.

All of the crews watched in shock. Rodney muttered something to himself about how he felt he had really missed something. Dr. Weir allowed a small smile. Ronon folded his arms and leaned knowingly against a pillar. But Dr. Beckett, had he been there, might have chuckled to himself, for, being a doctor, he might also have guessed at what had always hidden beneath the surface.


End file.
